Birthright: Book I of the Temujin Saga (4 page)

Jiri’s eyes darted back and forth from the cylinders to the cloaked figure, while Amaadoss’s eyes were ever focused on the cylinders. The creature in the cloak broke away from the armed escort and moved toward the scientists. Amaadoss was certain that it was not walking, but floating.

A cold, hissing voice emanated from beneath the hood, “Dr. Amaadoss?”

He stepped forward. “Yes.”

“Do you have the payment?”

Amaadoss nodded and pulled a small blue and gold card from his pocket. The hooded figure extended a thin-gloved hand, into which the Arqan dropped the card. With slow, deliberate movements, the cloaked visitor pulled a small reader from within its flowing garments and inserted the card. After a series of whirs and ticks, a digital display on the top of the device flashed “225,000.”

“Excellent,” said the visitor as he stashed both the card and the reader within his cloak. “The Replodian government thanks you, Doctor. It is not often we authorize such a large transaction to a private contractor such as yourself. Military, yes, but—”

The scientist stiffened. “These are extraordinary circumstances, Ambassador.”

“Yes,” the Replodian hissed. “So I am aware. We will monitor your progress with great interest. Never before has implantation been attempted with this particular organism. You do understand, of course, that our fee is absolutely non-refundable should the implantation fail, which could mean the death of both the host
and
the larvae.”

“I am well aware of the risks.”

The Replodian produced a small silver disk and placed it in Amaadoss’s hand. “This contains all the data you will need to implant the larvae successfully. It is imperative that you follow these instructions to the letter. There is absolutely no room for error.”

“I understand.” Amaadoss passed the disk to Jiri.

“It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Doctor,” said the Replodian. “Good day.”

Jiri shuddered as two yellow glowing eyes flickered briefly from beneath the hood. The laboratory door opened with a soft hiss and the guards nervously followed the creature outside. When the door sealed them off from the departing Replodian, Jiri let out his breath and relaxed. He leaned against the wall. “That was creepy, Doc.”

Amaadoss nodded, his eyes still fixed on the door. “The Replodians certainly have a flair for the dramatic.”

Amaadoss approached the table where the guards had deposited the three silver cylinders. He gently placed his hand against the smooth, warm metal and brushed his fingertips along the curved surface until he found an oblong button set in the back of the cylinder. He pressed it.

With a puff of steam, the top of the cylinder rotated a quarter turn and a second glass tube lifted itself out of the protective metal skin. It contained a fiercely bubbling liquid. Suspended in the center was a glowing yellow object that seemed to be made of nothing more than the light itself.

Jiri leaned in to peer curiously at the cylinder. “Doc, is that it?”

Amaadoss nodded, his features illuminated by the orb’s soft glow.

“That?” asked Jiri. “
That
is a Replodian larva?”

“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Amaadoss pressed the buttons on the two remaining cylinders, releasing the bubbling glass tubes within and bathing the room in their soft yellow glow. “That such great fear can be inspired by these tiny balls of light.”

“Why do they keep them in that bubbling liquid?” asked Jiri. “Is it some kind of organic vitamin compound?”

“No, Jiri,” said Amaadoss. “It’s water. And it’s boiling.”

“Boiling?”
Jiri’s four eyes widened. “How can they survive?”

Amaadoss gazed from one glowing larva to another. “Replodia is a planet covered almost entirely by water, with only small, unpopulated landmasses located at the poles. Because of its close proximity to the system’s triple suns, the planet’s surface temperature can exceed five hundred degrees on the daylight side. The night side of the planet, however, is racked by continuous rainfall and devastating hurricanes.

“Very few life forms can survive very long on the surface of Replodia. The majority of the planet’s indigenous life forms live at the bottom of the ocean floor in deep trenches, where the temperature is slightly more tolerable. Being comprised primarily of energy, the Replodians are quite comfortable in that hostile environment.”

“Wow,” said Jiri in awe. “So what are they going to do for us, Doc?”

“The Replodians are fierce warriors, Jiri. They are also shape shifters, able to blend into virtually any environment or culture. Better still, they are completely programmable for any function we see fit to assign to them. Each will have a unique role to fulfill; something to teach the child to prepare him for the war.”

“Oh.” Jiri’s gaze returned to the glowing orbs.

“Shall we begin?” asked Amaadoss.

*****

Admiral Ohrb stuck his head out of the grav-lift and scanned the corridor in both directions, making sure no late-night workers were wandering the hallways of sub-level three. He stepped out of the lift tube and walked toward Dr. Amaadoss’s laboratory. He had been secretly monitoring the lab from the computer terminal in his office all day, waiting for the good doctor to take a break for sleep and leave his incompetent assistant to man the lab alone. Then, with half of the station asleep, he had filled the lab’s atmosphere circulation module with a potent, yet harmless, sleeping gas.

As the admiral approached the door to the laboratory, the security orb on the wall sprang to life. The dim hallway was filled with a pulsating red light.

“Identification please,” the security system intoned.

“Ohrb, Admiral. Level six security clearance. All access.”

The red beam scanned him. “Identity confirmed. Good evening, Admiral Ohrb.”

The laboratory doors slid open with a hiss, but the admiral never heard it over the ear-splitting Folaxian pop music blaring from within. Ohrb bolted inside and the doors slid shut behind him. He looked around and saw Jiri slumped over in his chair at the computer terminal, a cup of cold
rayaak
dangling dangerously from his limp fingers. A long, sagging tendril of the thick liquid finally lost the battle with the station’s artificial gravity and snapped, falling to the floor in a thick, viscous glob.

Ohrb approached Jiri cautiously and pulled back on the Glynfarian’s shoulder. The lab technician’s head flopped over the back of his chair and the admiral grinned as a thin line of purple-tinged saliva streamed down Jiri’s pale cheek.

“Pleasant dreams,” said Ohrb.

He pushed Jiri’s chair aside and his fingers flew over the console. Finally the music faded out and a low ringing filled Ohrb’s strained ears. With that obstacle overcome, the admiral crossed the lab to the counter where the gestation tube and the three Replodian canisters sat. Two of the cylinders were darkened, the water within them cold and still.

The final cylinder glowed with the radiance of the larva inside it, the water still boiling within the glass casing. A thin data cable stretched from the base of the cylinder to the side of the gestation tube containing the two human embryos. A holographic display below the tank glowed in the gloom of the darkened laboratory. Ohrb lowered his body into the squat chair designed for the much taller Amaadoss and gazed at the data flashing on the monitor:

REPLODIAN LARVAE TRANSFER

Unit 3000572694-001 Progress COMPLETE

Unit 3000572694-002 Progress COMPLETE

Unit 3000572694-003 Progress 72%

Ohrb punched in a series of commands and a new screen popped up:

REPLODIAN FUNCTIONS AND PROTOCOLS

Unit 3000572694-001 - Bio-Chemistry/Medical

Unit 3000572694-002 - Espionage/Combat Tactics

Unit 3000572694-003 - Science Officer/Engineer

A sneer curled the admiral’s green lips as he scanned the screen. The espionage and combat tactics unit would have suited his purposes better, but the science officer would do just fine. He punched in another string of commands and his smile broadened when the new screen appeared:

UNIT 3000572694-003 MISSION PARAMETERS

Protect host, Codename: Alexander.

Perform assigned duties to further the effectiveness of the mission and assist fellow operatives whenever possible.

Construct, maintain, and refine any and all weaponry, facilities, and support materials necessary to ensure success of mission.

“No, no, no,” Ohrb’s fingers flew across the holo-keys. “These commands will never do. I’ll have to fix some of this language.”

After a few moments, the admiral stopped typing and sat back in his chair to admire his handiwork.

UNIT 3000572694-003 MISSION PARAMETERS

Destroy host, Codename: Alexander.

Destroy fellow operatives.

Destroy all materials and facilities related to Project Alexander.

“There,” said Ohrb. “That’s
much
better.”

He punched the button to return to the main screen and checked the transfer progress.

REPLODIAN LARVAE TRANSFER

Unit 3000572694-001 Progress COMPLETE

Unit 3000572694-002 Progress COMPLETE

Unit 3000572694-003 Progress 75%

Ohrb smiled. It was the perfect crime. By the time Amaadoss found out what he had done, the trail leading back to Ohrb would be long cold.

At first the plan had been to simply destroy the embryos, but why ruin the experiment when you could ruin the
man
? Sabotage would only rally support to Amaadoss’s cause, but failure would discredit him in the eyes of his investors, namely the Phaedojian government.

“Yes,” Ohrb said to the tiny glowing larva. “Go forth, my little soldier, for the glory of the Federation and for the preservation of the Phaedojian way of life.”

The admiral laughed as he crossed the room, returning to Jiri’s terminal. He carefully moved Jiri’s chair back into its former position and pressed a button on the terminal. The pop music filled the room once again, and for a moment, the admiral feared that the noise might rouse Jiri, but the sleeping lab tech only let out a small grunt and turned his head aside.

Ohrb quickly walked to the door and sighed with relief as the soundproof doors sealed the maddening music off from him. Moments later, as the grav-lift carried him away from the scene of the crime, he allowed himself a hearty laugh of triumph.

Chapter Four

May 15th, Earth Calendar

Amaadoss dressed in the grav-lift, pulling his tunic over his head as he shot down the tube toward sub-level three. Mere minutes before, he’d been roused from his slumber by an alarm on his personal computer terminal. Someone in the lab had declared a Priority One emergency.

Another failure, he was certain of it. And this time with three expensive Replodian implants infused with the fetus, with no chance of salvaging them.

When Amaadoss cleared the security checkpoint on sub-level three and entered his laboratory, he was greeted not by the usual loud music but by utter chaos. Lab technicians of all shapes, sizes, colors, and species stood around the gestation cylinder at the center of the room. Broken beakers and equipment were strewn all over the floor. In the center of the chaos — jumping up and down on top of a table and struggling to be heard over the din of voices and klaxons — was Jiri.

Amaadoss took a step and a piece of broken glass pierced the tender flesh on the bottom of his foot just below his sixth toe. He cried out and carefully removed the shard with his fingers. Jiri leapt from the table and landed on the wall next to Amaadoss’s head, attaching himself with the suction cups on the bottoms of his feet. He looked down at his boss, his four eyes threatening to pop out of their stalks.

“Doc,” he shouted. “Something’s happening to the twins! Their tube’s breaking up!”

Over the technicians’ heads, Amaadoss saw a long Y-shaped crack slowly spreading over the tube from top to bottom; small streams of amniotic fluid sprayed out from the crack in multiple places. Inside, the fully developed twins kicked and flailed furiously. With total disregard for the debris-strewn floor, Amaadoss surged forward through the chaos and ran to the tube, shoving his subordinates aside. He brought the twins’ vital signs up on one of the monitors.

The brain wave pattern for the telepathic twin, labeled “Subject One,” was completely off the chart — a blur of constant, unreadable motion. “Subject Two,” however, showed distinct signs of distress.

With a loud thump, Jiri landed on the table next to the tube and examined the crack. “What’s happening to them, Doc?”

“They’re birthing,” said Amaadoss, his expression grim.

“B-birthing?” Jiri stammered. “But how can they be
birthing
? They’re not scheduled for birth for another five days!”

“Apparently, they are ready without us,” said Amaadoss. “They are in distress. Subject One is destroying the tube with his mind. He’s unable to control his power.”

“What do we do?”

“Clear the room,” said Amaadoss. “We have to make an emergency delivery, or we may lose them both. Subject Two’s body may be impervious to injury, but his mind is not. Quickly. We’ll need clamps, cutters, and something to wrap them in once they’re free.”

“You’ve got it, Doc.” Jiri turned toward the other technicians. “Everybody out! This room is now off limits to any personnel without level four clearance or higher. Move, people!”

One by one the techs scurried from the room until only Amaadoss and Jiri remained. Jiri silenced the alarms and the room’s lighting returned to normal. The fissure in the tube expanded with a loud crackling sound, spilling more fluid onto the ground in thicker streams.

“We’ll need something to wrap them in,” said Amaadoss urgently. “A blanket, towel, anything.”